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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Will Wood
Ukulele
Sofia Session Orchestra & Choir
Choir
Mike Bottiglieri
Acoustic Guitar
Vater Boris
Bass Guitar
Mario Conte
Drums
Georgi Elenkov, PhD
Conductor
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Will Wood
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kevin Antreassian
Mastering Engineer
Vladislav Boyadzhiev
Recording Engineer
Simon Ficken
Recording Engineer
Angeliya Vihrova
Recording Engineer
Goerge Strezov
Recording Engineer
Plamen Penchev
Recording Engineer
Will Wood
Producer
Lyrics
My dream girl, those eyes, that nose
My private inside joke, sign the cast on my funny bone
Floral sheets on long-given-up ghosts
Haunt my bedroom at night and say "Let's get you home"
They say "Grow up, be a man, 'cause until then
You're nothing but a short-haired girl"
But come and Braille-palm-read and hold my hand
See my reason and "Goodbye cruel world"
And oh my God, what's wrong with me?
And the wife of Walter Keane, whose name right now's escaping me
That's right, Margaret
Dream girl, come, and sweep me off my knees
I'd rather stay asleep than never see you wake up next to me
Neon lights like heat lamps in the cold
To incubate the shadows you can't stitch back to your soles
And you seemed fine just a few days ago
But CO2 and fish tanks do enough to get you home
Well now you swear in your prayers telling time
"Promise I'll never have fun again
If you'd stop flying," but then you start crying "Never mind, you win"
And far too late came far too soon
And the love you never made became the things you'd never do
Oh, sweet Mary
Dream girl, come, but keep your hands off me
Go on back to bed my love, I mean,
That's where dreams are supposed to be
So come on, William, grow up, be a man
'Cause until then they're gonna treat you
Like you're just a little girl
But come and Braille-palm-read, hold my hands and you'll see that
It's me who cries mercy while your fingers curl
And, oh, are you at all like me?
Do you know what I mean?
Or am I too close to see?
Someone, anyone?
Of the two things we do on our knees
Watch me fold my hands just to crack my knuckles
Well, here is the church, here is the steeple
Open the doors, see all the people
Alright, that's enough, let's get you home
Writer(s): Will Wood
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